


let it go, start over

by msbeeinmybonnet (beeinmybonnet)



Series: (like wines)  we intertwine [6]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Redemption, a rare nice Templar appears, in dialogue at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5027479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeinmybonnet/pseuds/msbeeinmybonnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"He is one of the best men I know. He is who I aspire to be."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>After Blackwall's returned to the Inquisition, Trevelyan shares a secret of her own with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let it go, start over

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason I've got it into my head that the Free Marches is Dutch. At least it's linguistically plausible, what with the Marches being located between Germanic Nevarra and English Ferelden?
> 
> This is an extended version of the scene set after Blackwall's judgement.

"How shall I refer to you, Rainier or Blackwall?"

"I've gotten used to Blackwall. Perhaps we can treat it less of a name and more of a title, almost like 'Inquisitor'. Reminds me of what I ought to be."

"Everyone needs something to aspire to."

"Exactly. I'm glad you understand."

Janneke glanced down at her clasped hands and fidget with her fingers. She was certain it would make Blackwall feel better about himself, but she had never told a soul about her mainstay and she was accustomed to the silence. Then again, the Circle was no more, the Order was in tatters and thus all the repercussions were null and void. Blackwall had also proven that he was more than capable of keeping a secret.

And it might ease some of the pain around his eyes. 

Steeling herself, she lifted her head to address Blackwall's right shoulder.

"Back in the Circle... There was a Templar. Ser Boudewijn, the Knight-Captain." Janneke faltered, wondering how to sum up such a large piece of her heart in just one sentence. "He was... I consider him my second father." 

In the corner of her eye she saw Blackwall's surprise but he didn't speak up, so she continued on to keep from hesitating again.

"He wasn't like the others. He was truly kind. Always gentle with the new apprentices, never violent, he never dealt unjust punishment. He expected us to be good mages and you had to earn his distrust. If you were responsible with your magic and respectful to people — mages _and_ Templars — he would be half-blind, even let you get away with pranks. With me he was practically doting. Without him, I wouldn't've... I owe him everything."

Janneke swallowed hard before taking a shaky breath. She remembered his lined face, how she'd traced the furrows and that gnarled scar, the feel of his soft beard-scruff, how incredibly blue his eyes were. His hoarse rumbling voice. How strong his arms were when they held her. 

She gave her head a small shake. She didn't have time to miss him now, she did that enough at night; this moment was about Blackwall, not her. Blackwall, who was quietly and patiently letting her speak of seemingly random things.

"I was ten when I came to the Circle but I didn't learn of Ser Boudewijn's past until I was fourteen. He used to be a Maleficar hunter — one of the best, apparently. He got an epithet he hated; the Red Tercel of the Free Marches. I assume 'tercel' came from his efficiency and 'red' either for blood or because he's ginger, possibly it's a double-meaning pun," Janneke said and realized she was going off on a tangent. "He spent fifteen years of his life hunting down Maleficarum and demons with the express purpose of killing them. He doesn't talk about it. I only learned all this because I overheard some gossip and I'm too curious for my own good. When I asked him about it, he said that he only regretted some of the killings but that 'this isn't doing right by anyone'."

She clasped her hands tighter together, short nails digging into skin to help her focus. "I've seen him train the younger Templars in both armed and unarmed combat. It was just practice but he's still better than most warriors I've seen. I realize he's probably the most dangerous man I know. But it's also he who held me when I cried, who chaperoned me when I visited my family, who protected all of us from the less kind Templars, who rearranged the duty roster so we had a private half an hour each week to catch up and just talk. Whenever I was troubled, I didn't go to the First Enchanter; I went to Ser Boudewijn. 

"He is one of the best men I know. He is who I aspire to be."

Blackwall was still silent, not even once interrupting Janneke's verbal cascade. Mustering her courage, she turned her head to meet his eyes. They were shiny from a thin layer of moisture but otherwise his expression was stoic.

"He does sound like a good man," he finally said and Janneke could only just hear a slight waver in his voice. He didn't look upset, though, so she hoped it meant he was a good kind of emotional. "You know what happened to him?"

"No," Janneke confessed and chewed on her lip, the familiar tendril of unease crawling up her spine. "He's probably kept to the North, though, and he doesn't obey blindly. He wouldn't... He's probably just keeping order somewhere."

"I'm sure he's fine," Blackwall assured her, rumbling and soothing, offering comfort even when he was the one in need of it. It was all so familiar it was almost painful.

"When I met you, you reminded me of Ser Boudewijn," Janneke told him with a soft smile. "Apparently you're more alike than I first thought."

Blackwall seemed genuinely surprised to hear this and Janneke was struck by a bout of self-consciousness even more intense than usual. Had she misjudged the situation? Had she only made things worse? Was the comparison a disparaging one?

Blackwall choked out a _"Thank you"_ , which could mean anything, but the look of gratitude he gave her put her fears to rest. 

They were then interrupted by a messenger saying that Ambassador Montilyet requested the Inquisitor's presence. Blackwall gave her a nod and even mustered a small smile. Impulsively, Janneke reached out and squeezed his hand briefly before leaving the stables. She would make sure to come back later and see if Blackwall felt any better then. 

On a more selfish note, she was overjoyed that she only felt light-hearted having talked about Ser Boudewijn, that giving him voice hadn't sullied them. Perhaps she could tell Leliana as well and ask her if she could maybe find him, learn what's happened to him after he helped her escape the Circle. Since there was no longer any repercussions to fear for either of them if they became known. She could finally break the silence. She wondered if Blackwall also felt some of that relief, underneath all the pain and guilt, of the truth being out. She certainly hoped he did. She'd speak to the others and try to make them see things from her point of view.

Because some crimes were of the past, paid for in time and good deeds. In her eyes, it meant they were absolved.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Con-crit is always welcome.


End file.
